Follow by Email

Thursday, 24 September 2015

A final flurry of activity is happening in the studio as I prepare to install a small exhibition in the Entrepot Gallery space at the Tasmanian College of the Arts, Hunter Street, Hobart. Speaking together in silence... runs September 28 - October 10Opening launch this coming Friday the 2nd of October at 5:30pm. Please come along and see current works in progress, incorporating sound, moving image, drawing, artist books and sketchbooks.

Wednesday, 16 September 2015

As I have been obsessively collecting and compiling information over the past 18 months, the role of the journal within my enquiry has become ever more significant. I have been reflecting on the nature of the journal - it's physical characteristics and it also as a model of thinking and doing.

The form of the book - it continues through as well as disjuncts time. The turn of the page speaks of a frame ‘anew’ and yet is physically and sequentially connected to the page before and after. Through the binding it also connects through to pages further on in the journey.

So the journal becomes a passing and a puncture of time, as ideas, thoughts and references flow. The pages speak of continuation and development as well as being discrete idles - of correlation and distinction. In my journals I find a continual linking across, between, through and around ideas and key questions. Some return repeatedly, resurfacing and some are left to sit quietly in isolation, awaiting a threading connection to appear. Some become part of the accumulation and debris or overburden of the inquiry. A mullock heap of thinking, discarded, that may or may not be returned to and fossicked through for hidden gems later. Trying to make sense of my thinking through their physical structure and materiality I began by establishing an indexing system, of page numbers and book numbers, to continue my drawing through the pages of my thinking. The sequential format has allowed freedom of movement while also providing some kind of organizing structure. The possibilities expand when the book format becomes in essence an artefact of the journey. With the development of two artist books in May 2015 the traditional book format began to be tested. Different size and types of paper were combined using multiple bindings and interleaved folding to create a book to be navigated.

Artist Books June 2015

10.6.15

The drawings/books have to be built, expanding, unfolding, obscuring and revealing through the process of their making. They are drawings that need to be turned over, pages to be touched and negotiated. There is no predetermined direction, no front or back, beginning or end. You navigate your way through the drawings/books via action and interaction, you become part of the journey.

Fingers, hands and pages stained with intra-actions

Turning pages

Turning stories

Turning tides

The collection of my journals is precious - a working archive of searching and gathering. They are evidence and containment of something which is necessarily boundless. Their serial nature affords room for perpetuity while also giving some useful constraints to reign in the potential storm of idea generating and gathering. Their portability means that I can have them with me at all times, have them at hand as ideas emerge. They have become extensions of me, so much so that I feel anxious without them near, and fear their absence when unpredictably needed. When moving from one to the next, as they fill with the flotsam and jetsam of my search, there is a strange period where the gap between volumes, between old ideas and new remains tentatively felt. The letting go of old to new is fraught for the first few pages, until I feel secure enough to leave the previous tome behind and stride out with the new. For some days I carry both with me as I keep returning to what was before, to ensure my journey forward into the unthought, blank pages of the new.

“At the beginning of each book’s life, when
its pages were still blank and its cover untitled, it was effectively a new
‘study’ - a clean white space awaiting a fresh project…deliberative, reflective
work spaces, in which the recording and ordering of the past is as significant
as the anticipation of the future.”⁠1

“…Pre-laptop, pre-photoshop - mark the
beginning of the end of the analogue era…collectively they represent an
archival landmark.”⁠2

“Although these pages - written, drawn,
typed, torn, collected, collaged, pressed and painted - could be understood as
autobiography, they are also workshops in which the planning, presentation and
outcomes of each day’s endeavour was first carried out, reflected upon and
finally stored…Like the journals of the 18th century British
explorer Captain James Cook, they were made with the understanding, that some
day they might be published and enjoyed by others as honest records of plans
and events as they unfolded. Never simply humble notebooks, they are treasured
books made to live between the shelf and the desk.”⁠3

Wednesday, 9 September 2015

I'm recently back from a month long trip,
back on the cray boat, ‘Climax’. This time, to Flinders Island and the Furneaux
Group, off Tasmania's north east coast. Randall, Matthew and Jacob once again
put up with the landlubber on board, with enough drawing equipment, cameras and
general crap to sink the boat! I went, to again observe and draw everything
that was going on, including the boys working.As well as taking my usual sketchbooks, pencils and watercolours a
collection of action cameras and sound recording equipment was also part of my
‘toolbox’. My aim was to capture moving image and sound, above and below the
water, to see how this might be used in conjunction with my drawings back in
the studio. It was another amazing trip, with so much to tell I'm not sure
where to start!

Past Clifton Beach

Heading for Dunalley

Looking back towards Hobart and Mount Wellington

We departed from Hobart on a lovely sunny,
but crisp afternoon at the end of July. I was out on deck, super excited (and a
little bit nervous) to be back on the boat and again with ‘the boys’ for a
repeat adventure, this time heading north, rather than south. Standing on top
of the rope baskets filming as the Victoria Dock bridge was opened, the
gentleman from Tasports stopped all the pedestrians and cars, with everyone
watching as we made our passage out of the dock. I felt like it was my fifteen
seconds of fame! There was also a vague impulse to rush up to the bow and stand
with arms outstretched for my Titanic moment, but fortunately good sense
prevailed and I refrained from making a dick of myself!

Heading past Clifton Beach, South Arm, Iron
Pot, Betsey Island and onwards to Dunalley, we passed through the canal just on
dark, then out the other side and through the narrows. We motored on, straight
up the east coast, with no need to anchor overnight, the weather being on our
side.

Approaching the canal at Dunalley

This changed late the next day as we
continued on, shooting the pots before stopping for dinner in lumpy seas. We
anchored out at sea on the Morris line and had a very bumpy, rolly and pitchy
night ahead. My land legs and stomach suffered through dinner, but I was determined
to enjoy my stripey. I got it down, every bite chewed very carefully and slowly
swallowed. It’s always nice when you have to concentrate (really hard) to enjoy
your dinner and keep it from revisiting at an un-opportune moment. I managed to
sit at the table for a wee while after helping with the dishes, but soon
decided to retreat to bed, thinking that being horizontal might be the best way
to deal with my wooziness.

Descending the ladder down to my bunk,
more concentration was needed and I quickly stripped down to my thermals,
awaiting relief in my bunk. Much to my dismay as soon as I lay down, dinner
thought it might like to head in a vertical direction. I got up, thinking that
I was going to need to make a very quick leap to the toilet, not having enough
time to make it back up the ladder and on deck. But with supreme iron gutted
will power and sheer bloody mindedness, I managed three deep breaths and kept
everything where it was. Wiping my brow and gingerly making my way back to my
bunk I very slowly laid back down, hoping all would be better in the morning.
Sleep stayed away as the boat rolled around all night, with me wishing there
was a seatbelt to hold me in. I decided that lying on my back was the most
stable position and drifted in and out of sleep until the boys awoke to pull the
pots as the sun came up.

The wharf at Lady Barron

The wind had mostly dropped out by
morning, making for a much more comfortable stomach and a really spectacular
sunrise. I was even able to look forward to breakfast! On we travelled, crossing
Banks Strait and towards Clarke and Cape Barren Islands. After anchoring again
overnight, this time in a sheltered spot, not too far from land, we motored
into Lady Barron after pulling the pots first thing. It was Friday and we had
an invite to the Whitemark pub for tea! Conveniently also, the weather forecast
said that a howler was on its way, so we sought shelter at the wharf for the
next few days. We tied up to the Lady Barron wharf, Matthew’s sister Toni
greeting us with a warm hello. We all piled in the car (some of us showered and
smelling nice, others not so much!) and headed for Emita, about halfway up the
island, to Toni and Richard’s place.

Emita

On the way to Settlement Point

Way back from Settlement Point

Tussock grass near Marshalls Beach

Emita

Ahhh, cray pots...

Whitemark golf course

Bowmans, Whitemark

West End

Road to North East River

North East River

Mt Strzelecki

Looking towards Mt Strzelecki from Trousers Beach

At the Whitemark pub

Friday night I was introduced to the
Whitemark pub. Without going into sordid details, a good night was had by all,
with a semi-respectable photo to show for it! For the next few days as the wind
howled we all spent some time exploring the island by car, jumping out at North
East River, West End, the Patriarchs, Wybalenna and a local birthday BBQ, just to
name a few highlights. The Flinders locals made us very welcome, with wild man
Mick taking us turkey and wallaby watching. Matthew proved to be an expert
wallaby and turkey spotter, while the rest of us weren’t paying nearly enough
attention apparently! Mick’s lovely wife, Christine cooked up an amazing feed
of curried mutton bird for us - this was my first taste of mutton bird and I
have to say it was absolutely delicious!

Wybalenna Chapel

My mate, Sheldon, looking attentive and ready for instructions...

On our last day on land before jumping back on the
boat…that’s right we were up there to catch crays after all…Toni took me over to
her neighbours - the local wildlife rescue refuge – specifically for wombats,
of which there are many on Flinders Island. Growing up on Kangaroo Island, I
didn’t see my first wombat until I went to the zoo (the only wombats on KI are
the pre-historic mega fauna, Diprotodon – in the fossil record)! So, naturally
I was a little bit excited to have the chance to cuddle a wee little womble!!
He(?) did not disappoint! Yes, that is most definitely a smile on his furry
little face (and mine – but not quite so hairy). They certainly liked their
bellies being scratched.

Yes, he is smiling!!

My wee little womble!!

With the wind a little less gusty than it
had been for several days, we left Lady Barron, heading south-west to
Preservation Island, lying between the south western end of Cape Barren Island and
north west end of Clarke Island. Preservation Island is a low lying jumble of
granite boulders and beautiful little sandy bays. We worked off the western
side of the island for a couple days, anchoring back in the lee over night. One
day, after shooting the pots in the morning Randall decided it was time to take
the tender off the back of the boat and go for a closer look around the island.
Did I mention that Climax’s tender is not your typical aluminium tinny, but a
jetski?! Woohoo!! So cool!! Yes, I managed to pick the only cray boat (probably
in Tasmania, and perhaps anywhere) that has a jetski on the back! What can I
say, I aint stoopid!!

Working on deck

Roydon Island

Clipping the crayfish's toenails! To keep them from damaging each other in the tank (boys like to fight)

Deciding whether or not to toss the annoying artist over the side?

More discussion...it looks serious, so it was probably about what we were going to have for breakfast

Matthew with a conger eel

Horseshoe leatherjackets

Jacob getting ready to 'shoot' a pot over the side

Another sunrise, yawn...

A somewhat 'painterly' early morning photo

Matthew with two Flinders Island thumpers

Preservation Island

On the jetski off Preservation Island

We went for a circumnavigation of the
island and it was breathtaking! We mooched in around the rocks, up to the sandy
beaches and marvelled at the crystal clear turquoise coloured water and then….thump!
We hit something like a marine speed hump. WHERE did that rock come from?? What
was I saying about crystal clear water? Apparently the sun was in Randall’s
eyes…

Oh well, these things happen. Better on
the jetski than in the big boat hey?! Hmmm, that’s a story for another day.

The lovely lady, 'Climax' off Preservation Island

Anyway, back to circumnavigating
Preservation Island. After a couple of circuits we landed at the beach and went
for a bit of a walk, noticing that there was no rubbish to be seen anywhere –
very surprising, but good! A courting pair of Cape Barren geese could be seen
off in the distance with two young chicks, so we wandered around in the
shallows, leaving them be to their little island paradise.

We had a couple days of beautiful sunny
weather, then headed north, past Prime Seal Island. We worked around the
Pascos, Roydon Island and Cape Franklin. The weather, wind and rain were
intermittent with night time anchorages in the lee of Prime Seal and Roydon Islands
providing refuge when things got a bit blowy. A few days later we started
pulling the pots early at 4am in readiness to spend most of the day flathead
fishing off Prime Seal. Having picked up Toni (Matthew’s sister) via jetski the
evening prior, the girls were out on deck trying to show up the boys. Despite
having rubber hooks, us girls did pretty good!! I am now an accomplished
flathead filleter and skinner – practice makes perfect! Oh boy did they taste
good!

Up early, working in the dark

Flathead!!

Yes, I caught some!!

Sunrise, working near Roydon Island

The idyllic Prime Seal

Sunset looking back towards Prime Seal

Mt Strzelecki in the distance

Calamari for tea!!

We continued working off Prime Seal, the
Pascos and Roydon for several days. On good afternoons the jet ski was again
taken off the back and we went exploring onshore on Prime Seal and Roydon. Our
afternoon on Prime Seal was another absolute stunner, with bright sunshine and
blue skies. We walked along the beach and rocks northwards, admiring more
turquoise waters and the brilliant orange lichen on the granite boulders. You
can see from the photo, just how orange the lichen is, especially in contrast
to my blue booties.

My feet, and the amazing orange lichen

Back on the boat, fishing rods were out
with squid lures at the ready for dusk. In the meantime Randall headed off on
the jetski to try a few spots we’d eyeballed from our walk along the beach and
rocks. An hour or so later I came out on deck hearing much laughter as Randall
returned, tossing a squid up on deck as he idled past and round the stern to
climb back on board. With instructions from Matthew to, “quick, get your
camera,” I wondered what was going on. As Randall climbed up over the back rail
and onto the deck, we were faced with a slightly sheepish looking skipper,
face, legs, arms, in fact nearly everything covered in inky black goo.
Apparently that’s how “professional” fishermen catch squid….

The skipper showing the results of his squid catching prowess...no he doesn't have black hair normally

That one will be remembered for a while
methinks, not to mention being posted on here (probably much to Randall’s
dismay) ! Hee hee hee – ahh the shame of being caught on camera. It should also
be said that several more squid were caught on various occasions throughout the
trip, but none of us used Randall’s “professional” technique and strangely
stayed free of the inky black goo!

On Prime Seal, with 'Climax' in the distance

We worked again off the Pasco group and
Roydon Island with some stunning sunrises and sunsets. I took soooo many
pictures of the amazing skies and water! As beautiful as they are, seeing it
all in person was definitely better than the photos.

Sunrise near Roydon Island

Are you sick of the amazing sunrises and sunsets yet???

Moody seas off the Pascos

Working off the Pascos

A Butterfly Latchet, coughed up by a flathead

After being out for several weeks, our
trip was drawing to a close and so we picked a good day to have one last picnic
ashore with our Flinders friends. Crayfish mornay, beer and all of us were
delivered to shore via jetski over several trips. A fire was built and we all
sat back, ate and drank with an amazing view of Roydon Island to admire.

Roydon Island from our picnic spot

The happy picnickers

A special little note stuck to the wall in the Roydon Island hut

West End, looking back to the boat and Roydon Island in the distance

Up the hill on Roydon Island looking back to Flinders Island and the tiny white speck of the boat

On the 21st of August we headed
back to Lady Barron through the straits past Anderson and Tin Kettle Islands
with almost glassy conditions. On past Little Dog and Great Dog, then round
Little Green into the wharf. After refuelling with assistance from wild man
Mick, we filled up the water tank with lovely brown bore water – but really,
who cares when you haven’t had a shower for too many days to mention?! We all
showered (lucky for the locals) and headed up to the pub. It was quite a send
off. First, a lovely dinner with Toni, Richard and Alison and then a few
bevvies. Again we wont go into sordid details, but it was a fun night – the
skipper lost at pool, I was almost married off to a local farmer and we all
made it back onto the boat and not in the drink (most importantly).

Me with my grumpy face on - hangovers and boats don't mix well!

We left painfully early the next morning, untying ropes in the dark –
apparently (I was still in bed). I learned that hangovers and boats don’t go
well together, but was assured that hangovers went away,
eventually, unlike seasickness. I’m not so sure…but it did make me feel better to know that a certain deckhand had hung over the side a few times as he untied the ropes leaving the wharf.

With another couple stops to shoot pots
around Goose and Badger Islands on the way, we crossed Banks Strait and then
tried a couple spots off Cape Portland and Swan Island. On our last day before
heading for home we went out to a secret stripey spot, determined that this
trip I wouldn’t go home empty handed. Out came the giant reels and we plunged
the lines down into 62 fathoms of water, which I felt every metre of when it
came time to wind back in! Weighted with a lead diving weight and hefty sinker
the line was plenty heavy enough to wind in without any fish on the end!! After
rugging up with beanie, jumper and jacket to keep warm in the wind and rain, I
soon found myself overheating and turning into a portable sauna when I got a
bite and actually appeared to have something on the end. Winding, winding,
huffing, winding, puffing, winding, huffing, winding, puffing – you get my
drift. Eventually, up came two striped trumpeter and four gurnards – not bad
Rex! But alas the stripeys remained elusive and so after a few
hours and being wet and cold, Randall pulled anchor and we started our 25 hour
trip home.

Stripey fishing

We motored all through the night, passing
the Bay of Fires, St Helens, Bicheno and Schouten Island in the dark. Around
7am the next morning and with the sun up, we passed the northern end of Maria
Island with its stunning high cliffs. On past Marion Bay and then through the
narrows, not long after low tide, just scraping through (literally). On through
the canal once more at Dunalley, we tied up at Margate at 2pm to unload, where
I left the boys once all our crawlies had been trucked away.

Northern end of Maria Island

A supersize Flinders Island crawly, unloading at the Margate wharf

As with my last trip, and perhaps even
more so after a month away this time, it felt strange and I was again sad to be
leaving the boat. My little floating world was left behind as I returned down
the windy road to Nicholls Rivulet and ‘home.’ Opening the back door and
stepping inside, I just stood there for several minutes, happy to be back home, but also feeling completely lost
and wondering what to do.

It took me several days to readjust to
‘land’ time, catching up on everything after being out of phone range and hence
internet and email for a month. It left me in a spin after the easy routine of
life on the boat, not to mention the land sickness! My head was in a real fuzz
for several days, feeling like I was still rolling when lying in bed at night
and having to recalibrate myself to my ‘normal’ schedule.Oh, to be on a boat at sea, away from the
rush of time, hook dangling over the side, sun setting/rising and the salty wind
in your face and nostrils!

Well, it wont be long until I am out there
again. I’m determined to get in control of this seasickness thing. The boys
tell me that eventually I wont get sick anymore. I hope that’s the case, as
I’ll be ‘proper’ working next time. Did I mention that they got me a job with
Fisheries as a Field Sampler?

Last time I went out with the boys, down
Maatsuyker way, they mentioned that they take out Fisheries observers to do
tagging, measuring etc of the crays. These observers get paid quite well
apparently, and me, ever on the look out for something new and exciting to do,
asked how one went about getting a job like that?

So, apparently the boys gave me a good
reference, “she’s not an idiot and her feet don’t stink.” Probably one of the
best job references I’ve ever had! My stormy seas jacket, overalls and shiny
new, white deckies boots are on order!! My job trial this trip was to take samples from 100 crays. This involved trimming their pleopod, recording the sex and measurement of each cray. Sounds like my first official job will
be assisting with the translocation of 10,000 undersize crays that are moved
into more nutrient rich and less populated areas on the west coast. They will
all need tagging and measuring – and yes, I do know how to tell the difference
between the boys and the girls! I’ve been paying attention!!

I walked up to the boat a
stranger, and a year later I’ve come away feeling like part of the crew. Randall,
Matthew and Jacob have not only put up with me, and all my crap strewn around
the boat (it rose several inches higher in the water after I unloaded all my
gear), but have done so with the utmost good humour and minimal fuss. They made me feel completely at home in their little floating world. Each morning I'd get up and find a cup of tea waiting for me in the wheelhouse, a steaming bowl of porridge for breakfast after our morning shot was complete and I'd have to insist on helping with the dishes after dinner. They have shown me some
of the world’s most breathtaking scenery, fed me like it was my last meal –
every day, explained the intricacies of cray fishing, showed me how to tie knots, splice rope, fillet fish, how not to catch a squid and be decorated with ink (but I think I actually already knew how to do that, it’s not me who needs the lessons in that department it appears), answered all my silly questions and all the while acted like it was no big deal. They are the most
humble and unassuming of fellows and have even shared secret fishing spots and
their beer with me – just amazing! These experiences at sea, will stay with me
forever, as will their kindness and generosity.

Fortunately for me, more sea adventures
are to come. I’m doing my coxswains ticket, which means more time at sea as
well as learning more about navigation, marine diesel engineering and ship
board safety. I'm going to be let loose in the engine room next!! I’ve completed my marine radio operators license – and so can now
officially talk over the radio waves. There are some discrepancies between the
type of language my instructor told us to use and the descriptive and slightly
more ‘creative’ language I’ve heard over the airwaves out on the cray boat, but I guess I can
refer back to the handbook if any confusion arises. Actually, in regards to
language, I learnt a whole new technique this trip that I believe
stems from an African practice of ‘talking’ to the fish. Sometimes the crays need
coaxing into the pots and require encouragement. Randall kindly demonstrated this
technique when we kept pulling up blank pots. I haven’t found a handbook for
that yet, so will have to refine it next time I’m out. Who would have thought
that fishermen were so encouraging and were such good motivational speakers! I might have to try it out on my students who don't do their homework!!

Oh, and I was drawing too! More sketchbooks have been filled, hundreds of photographs and many hours of video. I’m having an exhibition in a few weeks time, showing some of the drawings and videos from the two trips. It's an experimental show, testing out new ideas in the gallery space. Come along if you’re in Hobart. There are rumours the show may be travelling interstate and visiting little old Adelaide next year, so stay tuned! Until my next post….stay salty!!

Search This Blog

About Me

I am an Australian visual artist living in Tasmania, working across the disciplines of drawing, sculpture, installation and public art. My work investigates the relationship between place and identity and explores the possibilities of drawing in both two and three dimensions.
This blog details various projects associated with my practice as a visual artist. More details about my work can be found at www.annaliserees.com